Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Batman World. I only own my main character Nicole. If I did, I'd be a very rich girl. But, alas, this is just for fun. Enjoy.

AN: The first 9 chapters have been re-edited for grammatical errors that were never caught. You can re-read if you like but there isn't any new content.

"Their tears are filling up their glasses

No expression, no expression"

-Mad World by Gary Jules

The night was quiet. Far too quiet for the section of town down by the docks. The young red head was crouching behind dingy black barrels, her long, fiery hair sticking to her face as a result of the mixture of humidity and the blood from her wounds. She was waiting--waiting for an escape. Her ears strained to hear his footsteps, but all she could hear were her own ragged and pained breaths along with the gentle lapping of waves against the battery. Was it possible he hadn't followed her? Had she really gotten away from him that easily? She leaned against the barrels as she tried to calm herself. A few days ago life had been easy. She had been having fun with her friends, going to classes, kissing her boyfriend. God, how she missed her boyfriend. But then she had met him.

No I can't think of what he did, the young red head decided. Instead, she focused on her next move. All around the abandoned building stood a fence at least ten feet high with barbed wire on top. There was no way she could scale that with her injuries. But then she saw it; the small hole in the fence not far from the battery. She could just fit! She could crawl through it and escape! She could swim until she was far enough away not to be seen and get help. She would finally be free.

She started crawling behind the row of barrels. This was going to be easier than she'd planned. She was almost there. She was going to make it! It was then she felt the sudden pain erupt from her head as she was yanked from her knees by her hair.

"Ah, Miranda, Miranda, Miranda. Did you really think I'd let you get away so easily," the baritone voice cooed.

"Please! Please! Let me go! I promise I won't tell anyone! Ever. No one at all. I'll lie about where I was," Miranda pleaded.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. I know you won't," the man said in an almost comforting voice. He smiled a smile that would have been a charming smile if it would have been anyone but him.

As she struggled, he began to sing, his deep voice pleasant and soothing. "Let's say goodbye with a smile dear. Just for a while dear. We must part. Don't let this parting upset you, I'll not forget you, sweetheart…"

It was then that she saw the silver glint of the knife. She screamed as it slashed her throat. She felt the warm, hot liquid spew from it. She felt weak. Then everything faded to black.

Miranda Johnson knew no more.

Commissioner James Gordon slowly rose from the car, catching a whiff of salty sea air and fetid stench. A local vandal had found the body around three a.m. near Gotham Rock, Gotham City's most prominent water side park. It was in the better part of town, so they say. Sure, you might find a few cases of vandalism from wayward teenagers, maybe even the occasional mugging--but a body? That was definitely out of the ordinary for this part of town. Which was part of the reason Jim Gordon was here this morning. As he was lost in his thoughts, a tall, lanky detective with glasses perched on his nose approached him.

"Commissioner, the CSI's are wrapping up. So far the preliminary reports match the other victims. Do you want to see the body?" Randall Pruitt asked with a hardness to his voice that never met his eyes. In fact, this kid--for he couldn't have been more than 22--looked like he was about pass out.

"Thanks Randy. I'll make my way over there. Tell the guys they can take a break," Jim replied casually. It looked as if half the team were going to vomit, and, if the stench was any indication, he probably wouldn't be far behind them. Gordon ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, relieved to be alone. The girl, if you could call her that, was mutilated. It was easy to tell how she was murdered for the gaping opening in her neck showed the sinewy tissue below that was half rotted by days spent in the water. One of her arms was twisted at an unnatural angle, rope burns adorned her ankles and wrists, and the rest of her body was filled with what he supposed would be cuts and bruises. There was no telling what internal injuries she would have. Her body was bloated and had just entered the stages of decomposition when she washed ashore. The only thing lifelike was the long, fiery mane with muck tangled in and the wide open dead green eyes.

"Another one?" a gruff voice asked from the shadows. Ah, the real reason Gordon asked his crew to take a break--the Batman. Although he was still outlawed from the supposed murders that he had committed, Gordon found himself consulting the man, if you could call him that, regularly. Granted, for the first year after the Joker's reign of terror, there hadn't been much out of the ordinary--the typical mob business and trouble in the narrows seeing as how all the escapees were never caught. In the past six months, it seemed a new problem had arisen, and Gotham was once again being plagued by a serial killer.

Without turning, Gordon solemnly replied "Yeah, another one. Her physical description and the tattoo on her lower back match. Her name was Miranda Johnson. Age twenty. Student at Gotham University majoring in political science. She was the typical All-American girl--worked at the campus bookstore, came from a middle class family, member of the Delta Zeta sorority. In fact, the last time she was seen was three weeks ago by her boyfriend, Alex Harper. She left a party at the local fraternity a little tipsy and decided to walk back to her dorm, which was across campus."

"Has Harper been cleared?" the giant man bat asked.

"No. We're bringing him in now. But you and I both know Harper probably didn't do this," Gordon replied.

The Batman was quiet for a moment as he seemed to take in the body. "Same M.O. as the other girls, the throat was slashed. But they were left in public places."

"Right. She washed up. Maybe she fell into the water after that storm a week ago. It would be consistent with the preliminary time for decomposition. It still looks like Zsasz."

"Maybe," came the reply from the shadows.

"We have to find him," Gordon said with conviction as he turned around. But it was no use. The Batman was already gone. With a sigh, Jim Gordon took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. Sometimes the Batman made him doubt his own sanity and whether or not he belonged in Arkham for trusting him.

AN: Hope you guys liked that. There will be more to come. If you want to know the name of the song that the killer is singing, it was popular during WWII. Its "We'll Meet Again" by Vera Lynn. Check it out.